


Love In A Hopeless Place

by eternaleponine



Series: From the Mouths of Babes [11]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (but not all haunting is bad), Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Foster Care, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, The past will always come back to haunt you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Clarke gets an email from someone claiming that they know Lexa and they want to find her.  Are they really are who they say they are?  Or is it a trap?





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke's history teacher had given them the whole period to work on their research papers in the library, but she'd already either checked out the books the school had on her topic or photocopied the relevant pages. Her outline was done and now it was just a matter of sitting down and writing it, which was what she was pretending to do now, but there was no way she could focus with everyone around her talking, leaning around the sides of the study carrels to look at each other's screens. 

She brought up her school email, which she rarely checked because anyone she actually wanted to hear from either knew her real email address or her phone number or would talk to her in person. Her inbox was full of announcements about long past events and clubs she didn't care about, and she was about to click the button to select and delete them all when one caught her eye. It was from over a week ago, and the subject was Ten Years Old... but it wasn't from Lexa.

She clicked it open.

* * *

**To:** cgriffin@arkadiahs.edu  
 **From:** moonH2O@email.com  
 **Subject:** Ten Years Old

You don't know me. I don't know you. But we both know her. 

Tell me how to find her.

* * *

There was no signature, only two emojis: the moon and a wave

Clarke's heart beat hard in her chest. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the sender was referring to Lexa. The subject line gave that away. But who were they, and why were they trying to find her? 

She pounded out a reply.

* * *

**To:** moonH2O@email.com  
 **From:** cgriffin@arkadiahs.edu  
 **Subject:** Re: Ten Years Old

Who are you? How did you get this address?

* * *

She tried to focus on other things, but after typing the first sentence of the introduction to her paper four times and erasing it every time, she went back to her inbox and refreshed. Her stomach lurched when she saw she already had a reply.

* * *

**To:** cgriffin@arakadiahs.edu  
 **From:** moonH2O@email.com  
 **Subject:** Re: Re: Ten Years Old

The one she said she'd find. 

But I found her first. Or I found you, which might be as close as I can get without your help. 

So I'm asking. Help.

* * *

Clarke growled in frustration, causing the kid at the next computer to look over at her in alarm. She forced a smile. "Sorry," she said. "Just having a hard time finding the right words."

"Uh-huh," he said, and ducked back into his own space, like the thin partitions that gave them the illusion of privacy could actually protect him. 

Again, the note was signed with emojis. Clarke frowned at them, reading the message over, and suddenly it clicked. Luna. It had to be, and she couldn't believe she hadn't figured it out sooner. The one that Lexa said she was going to find in the poem. 

But if it really _was_ Luna, why was she being so cryptic? Why not just come out and say it? Sure, the email address and the emojis made it _look_ like it might be authentic, but anyone who knew about Lexa's past, who knew that it was Luna she was looking for, could create an email address that made it look like it was coming from Lexa's long lost friend, couldn't they?

And there were a lot more bad people than good ones with that information. 

So as much as she wanted to believe that this really was Luna reaching out, trying to grab hold of the hand that had slipped from her grasp almost six years ago now, she couldn't trust it. Not yet.

* * *

**To:** moonH2O@email.com  
 **From:** cgriffin@arkadiahs.edu  
 **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Ten Years Old

You didn't answer my question.

How did you find me?

* * *

This time she didn't even pretend to do work. She just refreshed the browser obsessively, waiting for a response, hope and dread battling for dominance in her chest and gut. She could hear the seconds ticking by on the big clock on the wall, and were schools the last places on the planet (or at least in America) that still had analog clocks? For all she knew, it was only _her_ school that still did. The noise seemed to grow louder as minutes passed by, and she started to worry that she wouldn't get a response before the end of the period.

Finally, with ten minutes left, a new message popped up.

* * *

**To:** cgriffin@arkadiahs.edu  
 **From:** moonH20@email.com  
 **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Ten Years Old

You were hiding in plain sight. 

I saw an article about the art piece you did and started tracking down everything I could about it. I finally found a local news piece about it, which gave me a starting point. There aren't that many high schools that you could attend, and there are enough email addresses that are available on public sites for schools that it's not hard to work out the formula for how they're constructed. I just emailed all of them and hoped someone would respond. 

If there are any C. Griffins at any of the other schools in your area, they're probably really confused right now. 

You're right to be cautious. 

I'll jump through whatever hoops you want me to jump through. 

I just want to find her.

* * *

The bell rang while Clarke was still staring at the screen, her fingers frozen on the keys. She barely heard it over the ringing in her ears, and it wasn't until her teacher nudged her that she closed out her email and got up.

When she took her seat in biology, she had absolutely no recollection of how she'd gotten here. Her feet had known the way, and she'd made her way through the halls, apparently unscathed, in something akin to a fugue state. She opened her notebook and picked up her pen, but when she looked down a few minutes into the lecture, she hadn't written anything down. 

All she could think about was Lexa, and Luna, and whether or not she should tell the former about the emails (allegedly) from the latter. It wouldn't be right to withhold the information from her, but at the same time, would it really be better to let her get her hopes up only to find out that it was all some elaborate hoax? Or worse... what if it was a trap? What if someone had managed to evade the authorities, or gotten out early on good behavior or something, and now they were out to get revenge on Lexa for the part she'd played in bringing it all down? 

But if that was the case, wasn't that all the more reason for her to tell Lexa? Forewarned was forearmed... was that how the saying went? It made it sound like they were talking about a body part. 

Which was what she should really be focusing on, but the page in front of her was still blank, and she hadn't heard a single word her teacher had said. Usually she loved biology, but today she just couldn't make herself pay attention. 

And if it _was_ a trap, and Lexa fell for it, fell into it, whatever, it would be her fault. If Lexa had to leave again to get away from the people who had already done their best to destroy her in the name of making her stronger, Clarke would have no one to blame but herself for losing her. Because she'd let herself get caught up in the attention she'd received after winning an award in the art competition at camp. It had been published in the alumni newsletter, which had gotten the attention of a few artists and gallery owners who had wanted to know more about it, and she'd talked to a few people, who had talked to a few more people, and for a couple of months she was a little bit of a celebrity, which had eventually led to the local news piece that had allowed Luna to find her.

Lexa had hated the attention, even though it wasn't on her, and even though Clarke was careful to never mention her name, or anything else about her that might give her away. Even though Clarke had refused all of the offers from people who wanted to get the piece seen by a larger audience, she'd seemed sure that it would come back to haunt them. 

And here it was. Lexa's 'I told you so' moment. 

A shudder ran through her, and she was suddenly aware that the room was quiet and everyone was looking at her. 

"Clarke?" Her teacher was frowning at her, the corners of her mouth turned down, her eyes crinkled with concern. "Are you all right?"

Clarke swallowed. "Um. I think maybe..." She bit the inside of her lip. She'd never lied to a teacher before. "I'm feeling kind of... chilly? Like I'm hot and then I'm cold, and..."

"I'll write you a pass to the nurse," she said, going to her desk and scribbling something on a little slip of paper. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks," Clarke said, hefting her backpack up on one shoulder and taking the pass. She forced a small smile as she left the room... and then made a beeline for the library again. She ducked past the librarian sitting behind the desk, whose back was thankfully turned, and hunkered down at the computer farthest away from her. She signed back into her email and typed as quickly as she could.

* * *

**To:** moonH20@email.com  
 **From:** cgriffin@arkadiahs.edu  
 **Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Ten Years Old

I want to believe you. I really do. 

So I'm going to trust you enough to give you my real email – lionclarke@email.com

Tell me something that only Lexa would know.

* * *

She shut down her email again and made her way to the nurse, who thankfully didn't question why it had taken her so long to get here considering the science wing was just around the corner. She just took Clarke's temperature (which was normal) and gave her some water. "Sometimes dehydration can make you feel overheated or like you have the chills," she said. "Just rest for a little while and hopefully you'll feel better soon.

"Thanks," Clarke said. She laid down on one of the paper-covered couches and rolled so that her back was turned to the nurse and took out her phone. Nothing in her email, but she did have a text from Lexa. 

**Lexa:** You okay? Wells said you left bio to go to the nurse.

**Clarke:** Wells shouldn't be texting in class. Neither should you.

She added the winking emoji so Lexa would know she was just joking. 

**Clarke:** Just feeling a little off. Maybe dehydrated. I'll see you at lunch?

**Lexa:** I'll save you a seat.

When the bell rang at the end of the period, Clarke lied to the nurse and said she felt much better, even though she felt worse because there was still nothing from maybe-Luna. She thanked her again for the water and made a beeline for the cafeteria, needing to see Lexa even though there was no reason to believe she was anything but okay. 

There were rules against PDA, but that didn't stop Clarke from brushing her lips quickly against Lexa's when she saw her, or clutching her hand as they sat side-by-side, once again grateful for the fact that she was left-handed and Lexa was right, so they could hold hands without either of them being forced to use their non-dominant hand. Not that Clarke was eating much; the pit in her stomach and the lump in her throat didn't allow it.

Lexa leaned in, resting her chin on Clarke's shoulder. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice soft so no one else would overhear. 

Clarke shook her head. "Not right now." She dared a glance at Lexa. "After school. Okay?"

Lexa pressed her lips together like she was biting back an objection, but finally nodded. Clarke forced herself to let go of Lexa's hand, to do her best impression of acting normal... and to resist the urge to check her phone, even though practically everyone else at the table was. She just couldn't take a chance that she would find a response from Luna, because how could she not tell Lexa then? And once Lexa knew, there would be two of them on pins and needles for the rest of the day. Or was she more afraid that she _wouldn't_ find a response, or that the response she got would prove that it wasn't Luna after all? 

By the time the last bell rang, Clarke was so anxious she felt like there were ants crawling all over her, and she wanted to crawl out of her skin to escape them. They climbed onto the bus (hopefully this would be the last year of that, although even if Lexa learned to drive this summer, that didn't mean she would have a car...) and sat in their usual seat about two-thirds of the way back, with Clarke next to the window and Lexa by the aisle, because she hated feeling penned in, even a little bit. 

Lexa kept sneaking looks at her, but she didn't say anything until the bus reached their stop. "Treehouse?" she asked as she stood up. 

Clarke nodded and followed her down the aisle. They called goodbye to Octavia as she headed off in the other direction, and then jog-walked to Clarke's house, hauling their backpacks up with them so they didn't risk getting waylaid by her dad, whose car was in the driveway. Sometimes he worked from home, but by mid-afternoon, he was easily distracted and looking for an excuse to knock off for the day, Clarke thought. She wasn't going to give him that excuse. Not today.

It was tempting to try to distract Lexa, but she knew that Lexa would see right through her, so she just flopped down into the giant beanbag that was indisputably the best seat in the place, knocking into Lexa when she wedged herself beside her. 

"Now can you tell me what's going on?" Lexa asked. "You've been acting weird all day."

Clarke bit her lip, then picked up one of Lexa's hands and held it. "I got an email," she said. "Several emails. From someone who, um... someone who claims to know you. She said she found me because of the articles and the interview, and—"

Lexa's breath hissed in, and Clarke felt her whole body stiffen, opening a space between them that was probably a fraction of an inch but felt like the Grand Canyon. "Who?" she asked. "Who does she say she is?"

"She... doesn't, exactly. She doesn't sign the emails, only—" Clarke stopped. "What's Luna's last name?"

"Waters, wh—" Lexa's eyes grew round as saucers. "Luna?"

"Maybe," Clarke said. "That's what she's implying, and the email she's using is moonH20 and she signs them with a moon and a wave, which makes sense now knowing—"

"Let me see," Lexa said, grabbing for Clarke's phone. "I want to see what she wrote. I—"

"They're not on there," Clarke said, but let her take it anyway. "It was at my school email. Apparently she emailed me at every school in the area, hoping one of them would be the right one." She tried to smile, but Lexa wasn't even looking at her. "The last email I sent her asked her to email me at my home email and tell me something about you that no one else would know."

"What did she say?" Lexa asked. 

"I haven't looked yet," Clarke admitted. "I didn't want—"

Lexa tapped in Clarke's security code without needing to ask for it, which maybe meant that it was time to change it, but it wasn't as if Clarke had anything to hide from her, and she trusted that Lexa wouldn't just take her phone and start snooping through it anyway. She brought up the emails, her knees bouncing as she waited for it to update.

When the screen finally loaded, there were a bunch of new messages, most of which were probably junk. But there was one that wasn't. Clarke waited for Lexa to open it, but she just stared and stared, and finally thrust the phone back at Clarke.

* * *

**To:** lionclarke@email.com  
 **From:** moonH20@email.com  
 **Subject:** Somewhere only we know...

Thanks for the earworm, btw.

Lexa has a scar on the side of her right calf, up by her knee. She got it when she climbed through a hole in a fence because there was a rock on the other side, a chunk of quartz that she thought was moonstone. She gave it to me for my tenth birthday. 

I held on to it the whole time they were torturing me, because there was no way I was giving her, or any of them, up. I forced all of the pain out of myself and into that stone. 

When they took us, when they tore us apart, I was holding on to it, but when I was finally forced to let go, I made sure it was in her hand, not mine, so it could take her pain even if I couldn't.

* * *

  


	2. Chapter 2

Lexa was halfway down the ladder before Clarke appeared at the railing that surrounded the treehouse's platform, which used to feel like their own private deck when they were younger, but now it was barely enough space for them both to move around on. 

"Lexa? Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back!" Lexa called over her shoulder, sprinting across the lawn and darting across the street as heedlessly as she had when she'd first arrived and didn't really think about the fact that cars were a thing she needed to be aware of. A car came around the corner and she leapt for the curb, but it was close enough that she felt the wind at her back, and she suspected the driver was cursing her for causing them a minor heart attack with her recklessness. 

She ran into the house and up the stairs, dodging around two of the younger kids who had decided that they were a great place to play. "Hey!" one of them said when she accidentally knocked into him. "Watch where you're going!"

"Watch where you're playing," she retorted, and shoved open the door to her room. She dove into the closet and pulled out the ratty old backpack that still held the things she'd brought with her when she came, now one t-shirt lighter because it had been sacrificed to Clarke's art project last year. She unzipped the outside pocket and dug around until she found what she was looking for, then zipped it back up and went hurtling back down the stairs. 

"No running in the house!" Miss Becca yelled from the kitchen, but Lexa barely heard her as she slammed the door behind her. 

She remembered to look both ways before crossing back over to Clarke's side of the street, and she climbed back up the ladder to where Clarke was still waiting, watching her like she thought maybe she'd completely lost her mind. 

Lexa grabbed Clarke's hand and pressed her recovered treasure into it, squeezing her hand before letting go. When Clarke looked down, Lexa knew she was just seeing a chunk of clear quartz. There was nothing particularly special or spectacular about it – it was just a shiny rock – but to Lexa it was more than that. Much more. It was proof.

"It's her," she said. "Clarke. It's her. It's Luna."

Clarke looked at the rock, then up at her. "You're sure?"

Lexa nodded. "No one else knew about it. No one. Even if they knew about the rock, there's no way anyone else could have known that I got it for her because I thought it was moonstone even though I should have known better. No one could have known that she'd given it back to me. It's her. It has to be."

Clarke's fingers curled around the stone. "What happens now?" she asked.

"We find her," Lexa said. "Or we tell her where to find us. We talk to her. _I_ talk to her. I—" Lexa swallowed as a lump formed in her throat, and she rubbed at the corner of her eye with the heel of her hand. "Clarke..."

Clarke arms slid around her, one hand still in a fist cradling the rock that to Lexa had always been the most precious gem, and she pulled Lexa in. "I'm right here," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Clarke asked, bumping her shoulder against Lexa's at the bus stop the next morning.

Lexa smiled and bumped back. "Not much. You?"

Clarke shook her head. "Did you hear anything?"

"No," Lexa said. They'd sent a response to Luna's last email with a picture of the stone in Lexa's hand, along with Lexa's email address, but despite refreshing her inbox at least a thousand times, nothing had popped up. "I guess you didn't either?"

"Sorry." 

Lexa shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, and she tried to convince herself that it wasn't. Maybe Luna had been using a computer at the library or something and she'd finally had to leave and so she hadn't gotten their response yet. Maybe she'd just been busy with homework... although for some reason Lexa found it hard to picture Luna going to school. Obviously she had to; it wasn't like it was optional. But when she tried to imagine her sitting at a desk like any other person, taking notes, sitting with friends at lunch, rehearsing with the band or playing a sport, she just... couldn't. Maybe it was only that Luna was stuck at ten years old in her head. She had no idea what she looked like now, no idea who she was beyond the hints of personality that came through in her emails. They'd thought about sending her a picture that actually showed Lexa's face, but in the end they decided against it. Maybe they were being overly cautious, but that's what Lexa had been taught, and old habits died hard, and some were seemingly immortal. Never give up anything to enemy unless they've already given something to you first. 

_Luna isn't the enemy,_ she told her herself. _Luna is your friend._ But then she was forced to amend it to 'was' because she didn't know Luna anymore. She could be completely different... or she could be exactly the same, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

They got on the bus and Clarke sat closer than was necessary, but Lexa didn't mind. "Are you coming over tonight?" she asked. 

"Is it Friday?" Lexa asked. 

"Yes," Clarke said, giving her a worried little frown like she thought maybe Lexa really had lost track of what day of the week it was with everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. 

Lexa rolled her eyes, grinning. "It wasn't really a question. It was just an elaborate way of saying, 'Duh'." 

Clarke stuck out her tongue, and Lexa laughed. "Pizza?"

"Again, 'Is it Friday?'" 

"Hey, you never know! You might want to change it up!" Clarke said. 

"We have had basically the same Friday night routine for the last six years," Lexa said. "Why would I want to change it?" Especially now, when one part of her life had been turned on its head, she found herself leaning into what was familiar to keep from feeling like she was spinning out of control.

Clarke shrugged. "I just figured I would ask," she said. Lines formed between her eyebrows as she frowned again. "Did you... tell Miss Becca?" she asked.

Lexa shook her head. "Did you tell your parents?"

"It's not mine to tell," Clarke said. 

"But you're in it," Lexa replied. "She contacted _you_ , after all. It's your project that led her to me."

"I know," Clarke said. "But it's still..." She shrugged. "I don't know. This is so far out of the realm of what I know how to handle."

"You think I do?" Lexa asked. "I don't exactly have long-lost friends crawling out of the woodwork every day." Her voice was sharp when she didn't mean it to be, and she brushed the back of her fingers against Clarke's arm, trying to take away the sting. "Not that there are any others to come crawling out."

The corners of Clarke's mouth turned down, and Lexa wanted to kiss her to turn them back up again. She didn't want Clarke to be upset, or even concerned. She wanted her to be happy... wanted both of them to be happy, but with Luna's continued silence (even though it really hadn't been that long) she was afraid that any optimism she let herself feel would be premature and setting herself up for a fall. 

"What?" she finally asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Clarke said. "Only... there were eight of you, weren't there? Seven and—"

Lexa flinched, her left shoulder twitching involuntarily at the reminder. "Yes, but we weren't all friends. Not that we were enemies or anything. Just... brothers and sisters, I guess, sort of, who had been taught to have each other's backs but at the same time to never completely trust each other, because you should Trust No One." 

"That's such bullshit," Clarke said. "Who the hell—"

"I know," Lexa said, hooking her pinkie with Clarke's. "I know that in my head, now, and I'm trying to know it in my heart. But I didn't then. The only one of them I really considered a friend was Luna. We fought like sisters, but we loved like them, too." 

Her throat started to ache as soon as she said the word, knowing that it was the right one. She had loved Luna. Still loved Luna, or at least her memories of her. She thought maybe Luna had loved her back. Why else would she have gone to the effort of finding her?

Except Lexa knew that there were other reasons that Luna might want to track her down. Reasons that weren't loving or friendly or altruistic. 

"Ow," Clarke said, reaching across to loosen Lexa's white-knuckled grip around her pinkie. "What are you thinking?"

"That maybe it's not a good thing that Luna found me," Lexa said. 

"Why not?" Clarke asked. "You were the one who said you would find her again someday." 

"I know," Lexa said. "I just... didn't expect her to find me first. She has the upper hand and she's the one calling the shots. It's not a position I like to be in. The best defense is a good offense." 

"It's... this isn't a fight, Lexa. You're not at war or... whatever. She's your _friend_." 

"She _was_ my friend," Lexa said. "People change."

"I know. I just..." Clarke sighed. "I guess I just want to believe the best of people."

Lexa laced their fingers together and brought them to her lips, kissing Clarke's knuckles. "Good," she said. "At least one of us should."

* * *

The day seemed to drag on forever, and by last period Lexa was struggling to keep her eyes open and not just pass out face down in a textbook. It didn't help that her last class of the day was history. She was sure that there were ways to make history interesting, but her teacher didn't seem inclined to do so. He just droned on endlessly about some war or another fought long, long ago, in a galaxy – kingdom, whatever – far, far away, over things that no longer mattered, and that's why the English still hate the French, and vice versa.

She was the first one out the door when the bell rang, speed-walking down the hall to meet up with Clarke and head for the bus. She didn't even bother to stop at home, they just went straight to Clarke's and Lexa texted Miss Becca to let her know that's where she was. She got a message back a few minutes later.

**Miss Becca:** Okay. Littles have come down with some kind of bug. Griffins say you can stay as long as you need to avoid it.

**Lexa:** Okay. I may stop by to get clothes if I need them. 

**Miss Becca:** Wear HazMat suit if you do.

Lexa laughed and showed the exchange to Clarke. "Looks like you're stuck with me all weekend," she said. 

Clarke grinned, pressing the back of her wrist to her forehead like she'd developed a case of the vapors. "Whatever shall I do?" she asked. 

"I can think of a few things," Lexa said, and they raced up the stairs, shutting and locking Clarke's door behind them before tumbling into bed... where lack of sleep overcame them with half of their clothes still on. 

They woke up groggy and disoriented to a knock on the door and Mr. Jake calling, "Time to make the pizzas!" 

"I thought that was donuts," Clarke grumbled, finding her shirt and pulling it back on. 

"I don't know how to make donuts," her dad called back, and Lexa hoped that his hearing wasn't always so acute. "I think it involves a fryer, which your mother won't let me get. Something about not wanting to house to smell like a fast food joint, and not wanting to clean grease splatters from the ceiling. You think we can boil a pot of oil on the grill?"

"I have the sneaking suspicion that at some point this weekend we're going to find out," Clarke said, handing Lexa her bra. "Because why just go to the donut shop when you can possibly explode something at home?"

"I heard that," Mr. Jake said. "Come down when you're ready. Dough's a-risin'." 

Clarke groaned. "You are the worst," she said, but she didn't really mean it. Lexa didn't have any personal experience with it, but from what other people said about their fathers, she was pretty sure that Mr. Jake was actually a good one. Maybe one of the best. She was also pretty sure that Clarke would agree... just not where her father could hear. 'Wouldn't want him to start putting on airs,' she would joke. 

When they were presentable again they went downstairs, stretching out the dough on the pans and spreading on the toppings in a ritual that had become second-nature. They had them ready and in the oven within minutes. 

Dr. Abby got home just as they were coming out, and the four of them settled down in the living room to watch Jeopardy while they ate. Lexa imagined Anya and Raven shouting out the answers and wondered who would win if the two of them went up against Clarke's parents. 

Lexa pulled her phone from her pocket during a commercial break, checking it for the first time since they got home from school, and her heart stuttered in her chest when she saw the top message in her inbox.

* * *

**To:** outofthewoods@email.com  
 **From:** moonH20@email.com  
 **Subject:** There were so many things I tried to forget...

... but you were never one of them. 

I want to see you. I don't know if I can trust that it's really you until I do. 

What do I need to do to make it happen?

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Lexa nudged Clarke hard in the ribs and shoved her phone at her. When Clarke looked down, the first thing she saw was a picture of a scarred shoulder. For a second she wondered why Lexa was showing her a picture that she had taken herself, but then she noticed that the details were off. The shirt that drooped down to expose the marks was a different color, and the hair that hung over it was a tangle of auburn curls. And, most tellingly of all, there were eight scars, not seven.

It was only after she'd taken all of that in that she read the words that went along with it. She looked at Lexa, biting her lip, then glanced at her parents, but they were focused on the television. "Do you want to?" she asked softly. 

"Of course I want to!" Lexa said, wincing at the volume of her own voice. She dropped it to a whisper. "Of course I want to," she repeated. "Why wouldn't I want to?"

Clarke shrugged. "She's still being sort of... cryptic, isn't she? Like she's trying to hide something."

"Well so are we," Lexa pointed out. "She's just being cautious. I mean, how does she know this isn't all some kind of elaborate trap?"

"Perpetrated by a couple of teenagers?" Clarke said. "That seems... dubious. Like something you would see in a Lifetime movie, not that would happen in real life."

Lexa's face went slack, her eyes cold and blank, and Clarke shivered when she looked at her. "You mean like my life?" she asked. "If you didn't know me, wouldn't you think it sounded like something out of a story, too?"

"You're right," Clarke said. "It's just..." She picked up the crust of her pizza and took a bite, chewing slowly. "I don't know. This isn't how I expected my life would go, I guess."

Lexa looked at her, then shifted away just enough that there was a gap between them and they were no longer touching. Just enough that Clarke noticed. "You don't have to be part of this if you don't want to," she said. "I'll do it on my own."

Clarke shook her head. "No way," she hissed, panic and irritation sending her heart racing. "We have each other's backs, always. We have since we were kids. I just didn't know back then what that meant, and you always have, so I'm sorry if it's taking me time to adjust and figure it out. I'm sorry if every time I think I've got my head wrapped around where things stand, the ground shifts underneath us. I don't think that's it's too much to ask for you to give me a little bit of slack. We're _fifteen_ , Lexa. These aren't the kinds of things we're supposed to have to worry about!"

"I was _ten_!" Lexa snapped back. "So was she! You think you're having a hard time? Imagine what it was like for us then. Imagine what it's like for us now! You've never lost anyone or anything. You—"

Her dad cleared his throat. "Everything all right?" he asked. 

Lexa's cheeks flushed, and Clarke instinctively reached for her to comfort her, let her know that it was okay and she didn't need to fight or flee. Relief flooded through her when Lexa didn't pull away. 

"Everything's fine, Dad," Clarke said. "Just talking."

"Uh-huh," he said. "I may have been born on a Thursday, but I wasn't born yesterday." 

"Were you really?" Clarke asked. 

He grinned. "I have no idea, honestly. I wanted to make you laugh."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "In order to do that, you would need to actually be funny," she said. 

Her father clutched his chest like she'd wounded him. "That hurts," he said, "right here."

She rolled her eyes even harder. "You want to go upstairs?" she asked Lexa. 

Lexa nodded.

"Put your plates in the dishwasher before you go up," her mom said. "And if you need anything, let us know." She looked at Clarke pointedly. She knew something was up, and so did her dad, Clarke was sure, but they weren't going to force the issue... yet. 

The amount of time they could keep this under wraps was rapidly dwindling. And if she was being honest, Clarke didn't really want to. She felt like they were playing with fire, and despite what Lexa said, she was pretty sure that Lexa did too. But they needed to decide how they wanted to handle it before they brought it to their parents, because if they didn't have any answer for every question, a counter for every argument, there was no way Lexa was going to get to see Luna any time soon. 

They took their dishes to the kitchen and went upstairs, shutting themselves in Clarke's room again. Lexa quickly shed her clothes and put on pajamas, then climbed into the bed, pulling her knees up almost to her chest as she leaned on the pillows propped against the headboard. 

"I'm not mad at you," Lexa said when Clarke joined her. "I'm just frustrated. I want..." She pressed her lips together, the corners turning down. "I want to go back in time and... change everything. But at the same time I don't. Because if I didn't grow up there, I wouldn't know Luna at all, and if I'd stayed there I never would have met you. So I guess maybe I wish that I could have had her here with me. Except then I wouldn't have needed you for a friend, or I wouldn't have thought I did, and..." She shook her head. "I don't know!"

Clarke put her hand on Lexa's shoulder, rubbing gently. She could feel the raised bumps through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, but she didn't stop. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to give Lexa the impression that there was any part of her past that she couldn't handle... even if Clarke wasn't sure that she _could_ handle it. The alternative was losing Lexa, and that wasn't an option. So she just had to suck it up and figure it out, like Lexa had been doing every day since she'd arrived, without Clarke ever really knowing just how much she was dealing with. 

Which wasn't her fault. She was just a kid. They both were. They _still_ were, and maybe that's what was hardest about all of this – the more she learned about Lexa's childhood, or lack thereof, the harder it was to hold on to her own. And yes, growing up was inevitable, but she didn't want to have to do it all at once. Even if Lexa had had to. That didn't make it right, and it didn't mean that Clarke was duty-bound to play catch-up. If anything, it made her want to dig in her heels and keep them both kids, as much as they could be, for a little longer. 

"We need to tell them," Clarke said. "My parents. Miss Becca. We need to tell them."

Clarke braced for an argument, but Lexa just sighed. "I know." She looked at Clarke and her eyes swam with tears. Clarke slid her arm around Lexa's shoulders and Lexa crashed into her, burying her face in Clarke's shoulder, muffling her sobs against Clarke's neck, her fingers digging into the material of her shirt. She cried like something inside of her was broken, like Clarke didn't think she'd ever really heard her cry before, and all Clarke could do was hold her, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, and whispering into her ear that she was here, that Lexa wasn't alone, that they would figure this out together, that she didn't ever have to be alone again. 

Finally the tears dried up, and Lexa peeled herself away from Clarke just enough to tip her face down to kiss her lightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice still thick and a little raspy. "I know I'm all over the place right now, so thank you for... for trying to keep me anchored." She traced her fingers along Clarke's jaw and slid them into her hair. "I've been through hell, but that doesn't give me the right to put you through it."

"You're not putting me through hell," Clarke said. "I've walked through the gates with you willingly."

Lexa gave her a wan smile. "Thank you," she said again. "I just feel like sometimes – maybe most of the time – I don't give you enough credit. I get so caught up in my own shit that I don't consider the fact that you're going through shit too. Your own shit, or my shit with me." She wrinkled her nose. "Okay, that sounds gross."

Clarke laughed. "Yeah, it kinda does."

Lexa pulled Clarke down so that their foreheads pressed together and their noses brushed, so close that Clarke couldn't really focus on her eyes. "Call me on it," Lexa said. "I'm going to do my best to be more aware of it, but if I start to slip up, to be self-absorbed or dismissive or anything like that, if I start taking you for granted, please, please call me on it. This is... you're the best thing that's happened to me, Clarke. You, Anya, Miss Becca, your parents, but mostly you. If not for you, I don't know if I would still be here."

Clarke shivered at the implication. "I'm glad you are," she said. "Here. And you've been the best friend I could ever hope for, and the best girlfriend. Sure, we've had some rough patches, but most of the time just thinking about you is enough to turn a bad mood around. I can be having the worst day in the world, but knowing that at the end of it you'll be there to listen to me complain or feed me chocolate or rub my back or all of the above... it's good. You're good for me, too. It's not all one-sided." 

Lexa nodded, and Clarke felt some of the tension leave her. "I love you, Clarke Griffin. Never forget that."

Clarke kissed her, first hard and then soft as she moved to straddle her hips. "Never have," she said. "Never will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a head's up, I will be on vacation next week and won't be posting! Next update to this story will be on Jan. 30. At least I didn't leave you hanging out on a cliff? ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

Lexa's stomach was in knots, and a sense of dread had settled over her like a heavy blanket, pushing her down and making her wonder if this was really a good idea after all. 

What if Luna wasn't the person she remembered? Lexa certainly wasn't the person she'd been when they'd last seen each other; why should she think that Luna hadn't changed just as much? 

But then Lexa wondered how much she _had_ changed. Sure, she'd learned – slowly, painfully – that it was okay to trust (some) people. She'd learned that a lot of the things she'd been taught about history and the way the world worked were untrue, or such twisted representations of the facts that they were as close to lies as one couldn't tell the difference. But had who she was at her core really changed? 

Had she even really been a person back then, or just a shell that they filled up with lies and fear? She'd been different with the other kids than when the adults were around. Especially Luna. With Luna she'd been more open. More vulnerable. More... who she was now. 

Would Luna remember that version of her, or the one that had known how to hunt and track and forage and withstand torture? 

Anya reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she said softly. 

Lexa's instinct was to shrug her off, but she shoved it down. It was okay to be nervous. It was okay to have doubts. It was okay to not be in control of everything all the time. Or so her therapist told her, when she'd been forced to see her again after she'd talked to Miss Becca about the sudden reappearance of Luna in her world. 

Her foster – no, adoptive mother, which made her just her mother, didn't it? – hadn't been thrilled when she first told her. She hadn't said it, and she'd managed to mostly keep it off her face, but Lexa had been taught to observe people closely and to look for their tells, so Lexa had seen the way her lips pressed together, just slightly, and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she squinted. The Griffins hadn't been overly enthusiastic either, and they seemed to blame themselves for the whole situation because they'd let Clarke do the TV interview that had led Luna to them.

In the end, though, they'd come around to the idea that Luna was just a 16-year-old girl, and the likelihood of this all being an elaborate plot to get to Lexa to exact revenge was pretty slim. Lexa didn't think Luna would have a personal vendetta, and she'd been the first of them to express any doubts about the way they were being raised (whispered into Lexa's ear as Lexa put a salve on the burns on the back of Luna's shoulder the morning after her birthday) so Lexa didn't think it likely that she would be acting on the behalf of their former captors.

But maybe she was deluding herself. Maybe she was just telling herself what she wanted to hear, just telling the adults what she knew they wanted to hear to allow her to see her friend. 

So here she was, sitting in a stupid coffeeshop (she didn't even drink coffee) with Anya, waiting to see if Luna would actually show up. Clarke hadn't been allowed to come; the Griffins had drawn the line there. Miss Becca had tried to insist on being here, but had finally conceded that it would be a logistical nightmare with the other kids, so Anya was here in her stead. They'd agreed to meet in a public place where there would be witnesses if anything went down, and where Luna wouldn't know exactly where to find Lexa later if it turned out that she wasn't on the up-and-up. They weren't even in the _town_ Lexa lived in, but the next one over, but Luna had been the one to suggest that for reasons she hadn't seemed inclined to explain. 

Their messages back and forth had been almost purely logistical since Lexa had finally gotten Miss Becca to agree to this. They were both hesitant to say anything too personal or give too much away, and Lexa chose to believe it was just because they had both been taught to be cautious, and not because Luna was trying to hide something. The meeting had been pushed back and rescheduled several times due to school and finals, but the school year had officially ended yesterday, and they hadn't wanted to wait any longer. 

"What if she doesn't—" Lexa started to ask, but the door chimed and she whipped around to look at it like she'd done every time it opened since they arrived half an hour ago, and couldn't stop doing even when Anya started to tease her that she was going to have a sore neck the next day. And there, standing in the doorway, was a girl with wild auburn curls, thick dark eyebrows, and a cautious, almost somber expression as she looked around like she was searching for someone in a crowd, even though the place was practically empty. 

"Is that her?" Anya asked. 

Lexa nodded slowly. It was her. Lexa had worried that she might not recognize her, but her anxiety had been unfounded. She looked different than Lexa remembered, obviously – six years of growing up did that, especially when puberty was involved – but there was no mistaking her for anyone else. 

"Well?" Anya prompted. "Are you going to just leave her hanging?"

_Maybe,_ Lexa thought. But that was the coward's way out, and though she might not be the weapon that they'd wanted her to become, she was not a coward. She stood up.

Luna looked over at the movement and caught her eye, and they just stared at each other for what would have been several breaths if either of them had been breathing, and then Lexa forced herself to take a step forward, and Luna did the same, and they met in the middle, still staring at each other like they couldn't quite believe that this was happening, searching each other's faces for some sign that this wasn't the person they were looking – _hoping_ \- for... or maybe that was just Lexa.

"You're here," Lexa said. 

"So are you," Luna replied. 

Lexa wasn't sure which of them reached for the other first; she just found herself suddenly engulfed in Luna's embrace, her hair tickling Lexa's face as their bodies pressed together so tightly it was almost hard to breathe, and she could feel Luna's ribs digging into her own, and she'd never let anyone this close to her, ever, except Clarke, and it wasn't particularly comfortable and she was sure people were staring, but she couldn't quite convince her muscles to unclench and let Luna go until she heard Anya clear her throat. 

She pulled back, her hands still hooked behind Luna's elbows, and looked over at the table where she'd been sitting. Anya raised an eyebrow at her, and Lexa took a step toward it, pulling Luna along with her. "This is—" Her voice cracked, and she felt warmth flood her cheeks. "This is Anya," she said. "Anya, this is Luna." 

"Nice to meet you," Anya said. 

"Nice to meet you too," Luna said, but her voice was flat. 

"Did you want anything?" Anya asked. "My treat."

Luna's eyebrows drew together, nearly meeting between her eyes. "Tea," she said. "Iced green tea."

"Got it," Anya said. "I'll be right back."

"Do you want to sit?" Lexa asked, at the same time Luna asked, "Who is she?" in a tone that made it sound almost like an accusation. 

"My sister," Lexa said. "Foster... former-foster..." She shook her head, annoyed with herself for putting qualifiers on something that didn't feel qualified in her heart. "My sister," she repeated. "When I first got to my foster home, she was the only other girl there. She wasn't thrilled to suddenly have a roommate, but when my—our foster mother told her that she was responsible for looking out for me, helping me with the transition, she took it seriously, and eventually we bonded." She looked over at Anya, who she knew was watching them out of the corner of her eye. "When they came for me for the trial, she tried to help me get away. She didn't know what was happening, only that they were going to take me away, and she tried to sneak me out the window so I could run and hide where they couldn't get me."

Luna's mouth quirked like she was trying not to smile, and visibly relaxed, easing out of the rigid attention posture she'd assumed. "Did it work?"

Lexa shook her head. "No. I guess they figured I might try to pull something like that and they had someone positioned behind the house. She tried to convince Miss Becca – our foster mother – not to let them take me, but it didn't work."

Luna nodded. "She still kept in contact? After?"

Lexa cocked her head, not sure what Luna meant by 'after', until it dawned on her that maybe not everyone had been as lucky as she had. "I went back after," she said. "To the same place. They didn't... they let me go home."

"Home," Luna echoed, like she didn't understand the word, like it had no meaning. 

Lexa's heart sank. "Yes," she said. "Home."

Anya came back with Luna's iced tea, but she found a seat in one of the comfy chairs in the corner, leaving them to their own devices, but still able to keep an eye on them. As if they were going to try to make a break for it or something. Or maybe she still wasn't convinced about the purity of Luna's motives.

Luna took a sip of her tea, staring past Lexa. "You've been in the same place the whole time?" she asked. 

Lexa nodded. "It's where I wanted to be," she said. "It had Anya, and Miss Becca who wasn't like any of the adults we'd grown up with, and Clarke." She felt herself flush again. "She wanted to be here, but her parents wouldn't let her."

Luna looked at her then. "They don't trust me?"

Lexa shrugged. "They don't know you." 

"They know _you_ ," Luna said. 

"Yes." 

"That doesn't count for anything?" Luna asked. 

_It counts for something,_ Lexa thought, _but not enough for them to risk their daughter on. Not when I don't even know you anymore. Not when I'm not sure whether I should trust you._ "You'll get to meet her," she said. "I'm not..." She frowned, licked her lips. "I'm not trying to keep you out of my life. Neither are they. It's just a lot for them to wrap their heads around."

Luna's focus on her sharpened. "They didn't know about you? About your past?"

"They knew," Lexa said. "They saw Clarke's project. And Miss Becca told them some of it after the trial, too. She had to."

Luna tipped her head, still with that laser focus that had made her unnerving at times, even when she was a child. "Why?"

Lexa exhaled in something like a laugh, not because it was funny but because she was getting more and more tense and it was a way to release it. "The night I came home after the trial I panicked. I thought maybe they hadn't gotten all of them, maybe they weren't all locked up, and maybe they would come after me. Maybe they would come after Anya and Clarke to get to me, and even though I thought I could handle whatever they did to me, I couldn't stand anything happening to them. I didn't..." She swallowed, looked right back into Luna's dark eyes. "I didn't want to be the cause of their pain."

"Ah," Luna said quietly, rolling her left shoulder back in a gesture that Lexa didn't know if she was conscious of. "Of course."

"So I snuck out and hid in the treehouse, thinking if they came for me there I would see them coming first and I would be able to do... something. I don't even know what I thought I was going to do, or if I was really thinking at all. But Anya woke up and saw I was gone, and she told Miss Becca, who called the Griffins to see if I'd gone over there, and Mr. Jake found me, clutching my little pocket knife, and he coaxed me out, brought me inside so I could warm up. They tucked me into bed with Clarke, even after I'd threatened her father with a knife, and..." Lexa's breath hitched and she forced herself to inhale and let it out slowly. "The next morning they were all talking about it, about me, and I swore to them I would never hurt Clarke. I guess they must have believed me, because they didn't try to keep me away from her."

Luna's eyebrows went up. "You were lucky," she said. "Where we went... they never trusted us. They didn't want to let us near the other kids, didn't ever let anyone forget where we came from or how we'd been raised. They thought we were dangerous. Feral. It was almost a relief when we got taken away again, except..." Her voice trailed off and she looked down, then shook her head. "Never mind."

"No," Lexa said. "Don't do that. I want to know."

Luna looked up again, and there was something hard in the set of her jaw, but her eyes gave her away. In their depths, Lexa could see something broken that refused to mend. 

"But not here," Lexa said. "Let me talk to Anya for a second. Don't—please don't go anywhere." Because she'd opened up a wound, and even though they'd always been told they had to face down their fear, overcome their pain, or it would consume them, she was afraid that Luna would bolt. 

"Where would I go?" Luna asked. 

Lexa bit her lip, not sure if she was being baited or if the question was rhetorical or what she was supposed to make of it. "I'll be right back," she said. "I promise."

When Luna nodded, Lexa went over to Anya and asked if she could drive them – both of them – home. Anya narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes," Lexa said. "There's too many people here, watching us, keeping us from saying anything that matters. I want to go home. I want her to feel safe."

"Why would being surrounded by other strangers make her feel any safer?" Anya asked. 

Lexa hadn't thought of it that way. "They're at least strangers that I trust," she said after a second's hesitation. "We can control who overhears what. Some things you just don't want to say in front of an audience." 

Anya continued to look at her for a long moment before finally giving her a curt nod. "I'll ask Miss Becca," she said. "Is it okay with Luna's... with whoever brought her here?"

"Um. I guess I should ask," Lexa said. 

Anya sighed. "Yeah, maybe," she said. "I'll wait."

Lexa went back to Luna, who was playing with her straw, sliding it into and out of the cup, which made a noise that set Lexa's teeth on edge. "Do you want to come see where I live?" she asked. "Meet Clarke?"

Luna's gaze flicked to Anya before she nodded. "I would like that."

"Will it be okay with whoever brought you?"

"I brought myself," Luna said. 

Lexa frowned. Luna was older than her, but only by a few months. Was it possible that she already had her license? "Oh," she said. "I—"

"On the bus," Luna added, as if sensing her question. 

"Oh," Lexa said again. "All right. Hold on. Again." She went back to Anya, whose frown deepened, but she called Miss Becca anyway. It might have been better if Lexa did it herself, but she figured that her mom was more likely to trust Anya's judgment than her own in this situation, and if Anya thought it was okay to bring Luna to where they lived, she was more likely to agree. 

The conversation lasted a lot longer than it seemed like it should have, but finally Anya came over and waved them up. "Let's go," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

"I still don't see why I couldn't go with her," Clarke grumbled as she helped her father clean out the garage, which was her punishment for cursing at her mother over breakfast when they'd had the same argument for the umpteenth time. "What the he—ck do you think is going to happen?"

"We don't know," her dad said. "We know nothing about this girl, and neither do you. Neither does Lexa anymore."

"So it's okay for Lexa to go, even though you're convinced it's probably dangerous, but not for me?" Clarke asked. "I thought you cared about her."

"That's not fair and you know it," her father said. "Of course we care about Lexa. She's like a second daughter to us. But we're not the ones who ultimately get to make decisions about what she can and can't do. That's _her_ mom's responsibility. You are ours. Your mom and I talked about it a lot, but in the end, we decided that we were not comfortable with you going to this initial meeting." 

It was still a little strange to hear Miss Becca referred to as Lexa's mom without the word foster appended to it. Clarke knew it was still strange for Lexa to refer to her that way, and more than once she'd had to correct herself after calling her her foster mother even after the adoption was finalized. "Well I think it's bullshit," she said. 

"And I think you need to watch your language and start going through these boxes. Christmas is right around the corner, you know. We should probably make sure that the lights aren't tangled."

"Christmas isn't for six months!" 

"Like I said, right around the corner." He grinned. "Come on, Clarke, this isn't the worse thing we could have made you do. You could be scrubbing toilets instead of spending some quality time with your dear old Dad." 

She gave him her biggest, fakest smile. "Happy?"

He rolled his eyes, and Clarke knew that if her mother had seen it, she would have said, "Now I know where she gets it from." But then he came over and put his arm around her shoulder. "I know you're worried about her," he said. "But she's going to be fine. I'm sure she'll be home soon." 

Clarke shrugged. "Whatever. I'm not untangling Christmas lights."

"You'll be sorry six months from now..."

* * *

Clarke was finishing up sweeping when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and tapped on the message.

**Lexa:** On my way home. With Luna.

A second later it buzzed again.

**Lexa:** My home. Not hers. Don't actually know where hers is.

**Clarke:** You could ask?

**Lexa:** Maybe. It's weird. Awkward. I kind of hate it.

**Clarke:** Do you wish you hadn't gone?

**Lexa:** No. I don't know. Maybe when we're not being stared at it'll be better. 

**Clarke:** I hope so. I look forward to meeting her.

**Lexa:** I'll see you soon.

Clarke quickly finished sweeping and went into the house for a quick shower and a change of clothes, not wanting to greet Luna covered in dust and cobwebs. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the kitchen then went out to the porch to wait. 

Anya's car pulled into the driveway of Miss Becca's house, and Clarke leaned forward to watch as they got out of the car. She was tempted to walk over, but she wasn't sure that she should rush things. Maybe Lexa wanted more time alone with Luna so they could just sit and talk... not that Miss Becca's house tended to be conducive to conversation, or anything else that required quiet. There was a reason that they spent 99% of their time together at Clarke's place. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually been up to Lexa's room in the last six years. 

Clarke waved when Lexa looked over toward and her house, and Lexa waved back, then held up a finger, signaling for her to hold on, it would be a minute.

Her legs jiggled as she watched Miss Becca come out of the house to greet Luna. She was half-obscured by Anya's car so Clarke couldn't get a good look at her, and she found herself leaning so far forward she almost tipped out of the porch swing in her effort to catch a glimpse. She wished she could hear what they were saying, but Lexa had made it clear that she should wait, so she stayed put.

Finally Miss Becca went back inside, only to emerge again a minute later with all of the younger kids in tow. They scattered across the lawn almost immediately, playing tag or something like it, the sounds of their shouts and laughter carrying across the street. It was another few minutes before Lexa was able to walk away, Luna trailing behind her. Clarke half expected Anya to come as well, but she stayed at her former foster home, chatting with Miss Becca as they watched the kids run around. 

Clarke stood up as Lexa approached, searching her face for some sign of what she was feeling. She'd said it was awkward, and Clarke could see it in the way she held her body, the stiffness of her shoulders and the way she kept glancing over at Luna every few seconds like she needed to make sure she was still there. 

"Hi," Clarke said, coming down the steps as they approached the porch. "You must be Luna."

Clarke didn't know what she had been expecting from the girl who had once saved Lexa, but the girl in front of her wasn't it. Maybe she'd expected someone who looked tougher, or wilder, or something. Someone who looked more like the soldier of the apocalypse that they had been being trained to become. Luna was anything but that. Her hair seemed to have a mind of its own, and Clarke though she saw streaks of teal and purple mixed in with the deep red. She wore the kind of shirt that you found in the sort of stores that reeked of incense and sold pipes that you knew weren't intended for tobacco, and leggings that looked like they'd either had a close call with an art project, or that had been painted to give them a little more personality. Her neck, wrists, and fingers glittered with silver and semiprecious gems. 

"I must be," she said, the corners of her lips curving up a little. "And you must be Clarke."

"Last I checked," Clarke said. "It's nice to finally meet you." 

"It's nice to meet you too," Luna said, and there was an awkward – the word of the day, Clarke though – moment where they both seemed unsure whether to offer a hand or a hug, and they ended up with their hands tangled together as they collided. 

"Sorry," Clarke said with a laugh. "I'm usually more smooth than this."

Lexa snorted. "Or so she would like to believe."

Clarke stuck out her tongue and Luna laughed. "I believe you," she said. 

Clarke winked as she looked at Lexa. "I like her already."

Some of the uncertainty melted from Lexa's eyes as she smiled back at Clarke, but none of them really knew what to say. It was Luna who finally broke the silence. "I heard something about a treehouse?"

"Yes," Clarke said. "In the back." She caught Lexa's hand as they walked around the house, letting go so she could climb up the ladder and then taking it again once they were settled. 

Luna looked at them, the way they leaned against each other and their twined hands and smiled. "So you two are a thing?"

"For over a year now," Lexa said. "But we've been friends since not long after I got here."

"The treehouse was actually her idea," Clarke said. "Way back when."

"Not really," Lexa said. "I just drew a picture. You were the one who convinced your dad to draw up blueprints and make it a reality." She looked at Luna. "Anya saw Clarke and Octavia – she lives down the street – over here drawing one day and basically kicked me out of the house, telling me to go play with them because she was tired of me hiding out in our room. They were drawing with chalk on the driveway, and I started drawing trees, and I put a hunting blind in one of them, but Clarke decided it was a treehouse and that we needed one. She told her father and he agreed, and so we built this."

"We even got to use power tools, which when we thought was pretty cool when we were ten," Clarke said.

"Who are you kidding?" Lexa said. "We still think it's pretty cool now." 

"Which, along with your lifelong love of flannel, maybe should have clued me in sooner," Clarke teased. "Seriously," she added for Luna's benefit. "I was clueless. Not that I didn't know that I cared about Lexa, a lot, but somehow it never occurred to me that she might want to be more than just BFFs. But then she got all jealous when I went to the spring dance with my friend Wells, and one thing led to another, and, well..." She shrugged and held up their hands. 

"You're lucky to have each other," Luna said. "I'm glad that you found a friend so quickly."

Lexa bit her lip. "You... you said you weren't so lucky. That the foster home where you were sent didn't treat you that well..."

"They treated us like we were feral animals who needed to be guarded against," Luna said, bitterness tinging the words, but it melted away when she sighed. "Maybe we were."

"We?" Clarke asked. 

"Oh." Luna looked down, then back up at her. "Yes. My brother and I. Sol." She pronounced it like 'soul' and Clarke must have frowned, because Luna laughed softly. "Yes, really," she said. "Luna and Sol. Yes, we're twins." Her shoulders slumped. " _Were_ twins." 

Lexa tensed. "What happened?"

Luna was quiet for a long time, fiddling with one of her bracelets, turning it around and around on her wrist. "I killed him," she said finally. 

It was as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed over their heads. Clarke felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs, and her heart was beating overtime, hammering against her ribs as she tried to figure out how to get herself and Lexa away from Luna.

"What happened?" Lexa asked again. She rubbed her hand against Clarke's arm, trying to calm her, maybe, or maybe trying to comfort herself. The touch was enough to drag Clarke's thoughts back to somewhere a little closer to the rational realm. If Luna had actually killed her brother, murdered him, she wouldn't just say it... would she? It wouldn't make sense to confess a crime to them, unless there were extenuating circumstances. 

Luna shook her head. "I can't."

"You can," Lexa said, letting go of Clarke and going to Luna, kneeling next to her and taking her hands to stop them from twisting one of the chains around her neck until it broke. "You don't have to. But you can."

Clarke just watched as the two of them seemed to disappear into their own little bubble, caught in the past as they stared into each other's eyes. Luna's eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched, fighting back tears until she couldn't anymore, and one escaped and slid down her cheek.

"He always believed it more than we ever did," Luna said quietly, maybe for Clarke's benefit or maybe to remind Lexa or maybe because it just felt like a necessary disclaimer. "He believed everything we were told. The future that they imagined, that they outlined for us, the collapse of the government, people turning tribal, every man for himself, trust no one... he _craved_ it. He always had to be the best at everything, the ultimate survivor. He wanted the adults' favor more than anything, and he didn't care what it took to get it. He didn't care who stood in his way, who he had to step over or on..."

"I remember," Lexa said. "He broke Chey's arm once, shoving her out of the way to win an obstacle course race." 

_Sol. Chey._ Clarke realized that these were two of the names that went with the scars that Lexa carried with her, and that Luna did too. 

"He did," Luna said. "It was never the same after." She looked at Clarke. "They set it themselves rather than taking her to the hospital. It healed, but not as well as it would have if she'd seen an actual doctor." 

Clarke nodded. "Lexa told me they didn't really let you have contact with the outside world." 

"That's an understatement," Luna said. "They hid us when anyone who wasn't completely invested in the community was around. For obvious reasons." She rubbed her thumb over Lexa's hand. "When everything fell apart, social services found out that Sol and I were siblings, and they made sure that we were placed in a foster home together. I tried to make the best of it, but Sol... he made everyone's life hell. He was always trying to run away, to go back, even though there was nothing to go back to. He did everything he could to make himself as undesirable as possible, I think hoping that they would send him away, and that would give him the opportunity to escape. When they came back for us for the trial, he did try to escape, but he didn't manage it. It took three grown men to subdue him, though." She looked almost proud as she said it. 

"I think they would have taken me back – our foster parents – but there was no way in hell they were going to take him, so we got moved to another home, and then another, and then another. Sometimes I wanted to beg our social worker to separate us, but I never did. I was afraid that if I lost track of him, I would never see him again, and I saw him as my responsibility. I thought maybe, somehow, I could get him to come around, to change his mind, to accept that there was no going back and that this was our life now and that it wasn't so bad, really. But he wouldn't listen to me. Honestly, he hated me, but I didn't want to accept that."

"Why did he hate you?" Clarke asked. "Just because you were okay with not being there anymore?"

"That's part of it," Luna said. "Before the trial – even before we got taken away – he hated the fact that I'd beaten him at something. At the most important thing."

"What?" Clarke asked. 

Luna touched her left shoulder, then Lexa's. "When we turned ten, they started testing on our ability to withstand torture," she said. "They gave us a piece of information that we were supposed to keep secret and then they tried to get it out of us. They used us against each other, threatening to hurt the others if we didn't give up what we knew." 

"Lexa told me," Clarke said. Lexa turned and held out a hand, pulling Clarke over to them so that they were huddled together, and maybe it wasn't for physical warmth but it kept the ice that needled at their hearts from penetrating too deep. 

"He only lasted through five of us," Luna said. "I got through all eight." 

"And he hated you for that?" Clarke asked. 

"He wanted to be the best," Luna said with a shrug. "He hated that someone else had done better than he did, withstood more. He hated even more that it was a girl that did it, and especially hated that it was me, his twin, so of course people were going to draw a direct comparison. On the same night, I succeeded where he failed." 

"I'm sorry," Clarke said. 

Luna looked at her with a strained smile. "It's not your fault," she said, "and it was a long time ago."

"Was it, though?" Clarke asked. "Six years, but..."

Lexa's grip tightened on hers, and they were all quiet, just leaning into each other and waiting for the weight of the moment to redistribute itself so that they were all bearing it (Clarke least, because there was no way she could ever truly understand, though she would gladly have taken it from either of them).

Finally Luna picked up the narrative again. "After the trial, he hated me even more," she said. "He thought I'd been the one to do it. I'd been the one to talk. He thought I'd gone soft, weak, living in a house with a family and never needing to do anything for myself. That's how he saw it, even though it wasn't true. I don't think he even noticed how badly we were treated compared to the other kids in the house. He was so used to the abuse, the fact that no one was hitting us, starving us, torturing us seemed like we were being pampered, spoiled..." Luna sighed. "He blamed me for everything and I let him, because it was easier than trying to convince him otherwise." 

Clarke resisted the urge so say she was sorry, because apologizing, or even expressing sympathy, wasn't what Luna needed. Clarke wasn't sure what she did need, except maybe just to tell someone, to get it all out, because if she was anything like Lexa at all, and hadn't had a foster parent who made sure that she got professional support, it seemed likely she'd never said much, or any, of this aloud. 

It surprised her a little – more than a little – when it was Lexa who said it instead.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry," Lexa said, her fingers digging into Luna's arm slightly. "Whatever he did to you, whatever he said to try to punish you... I'm sorry."

Luna's eyebrows drew together. "Why?" she asked. 

"Because it was me," Lexa confessed. "I was the one who talked."

A flicker of surprise flashed across Luna's face, quickly smoothed out. "You?"

"Yes," Lexa said. "They promised that if I told them what happened, they would all get locked up and I would be allowed to come back here. I would be allowed to come home." She felt Clarke's hand on her back, pressed hard into her skin like she thought Lexa might fall over without physical support. "All I wanted was to come home."

Luna looked at her for a long time, then at Clarke, then back at her. "I should have known," she said. "I should have known it was you." 

There was something in her tone that put Lexa on edge, and the little voice that whispered that this might all be a trap was suddenly back in her ear, telling her that she wasn't safe, that Luna wasn't her friend anymore, that she had destroyed everything and the only possible motivation Luna would have to find her was to get revenge. 

"You were always the one who asked too many questions," Luna said. "You were always the one who expressed doubts. Secretly to me, and openly to the adults, even when you knew it would get you punished." Her mouth pressed into a shape that was neither a smile nor a frown, but something strangely in between. "I should have known you would be the one who would find a way to get out and stay out. To get us all out... for better or worse." 

Lexa made herself hold Luna's gaze, those deep brown eyes that hadn't changed at all since the last time Lexa had looked into him, trying to memorize every detail of Luna's face as they'd been torn away from each other. It only occurred to her then that it would have made more sense for Luna to cling to her brother in those last moments. He was her blood, after all. They'd been together since before they were born; she would have thought that would bond them to each other more tightly than they could ever bond to anyone else. But Luna had held on to _her_ , not Sol. Why?

Maybe she'd known they would keep her and her brother together, but how could she have? They'd always been told that if they were taken away, they would never get to see any of the people they cared about ever again. What did it mean that when Luna had to choose one person to try to not lose, she'd picked Lexa over her brother? Had it only been that Lexa had been closer? The easiest to reach? Would she have latched on to one of the others if they had been nearest? 

Had she thought she could protect Lexa? Spare her pain? And look how Lexa had repaid that. She hadn't even considered the impact her decision to give up the information that the police and social workers and lawyers wanted about the community leaders would have on the others. On Luna.

"If I had known it would hurt you, I—" Lexa started, but Luna shook her head. 

"No," Luna said. "You did the right thing, and don't you dare think otherwise. You had a home to come back to, and I'm sure you weren't the only one. If you'd refused to talk, if they'd walked free, you might have been forced to give this up." She glanced at Clarke. "This is where you belong, Lexa. You deserve to be happy." A pause, then, "We all do."

"Are you?" Lexa asked, because they were nowhere near the end of Luna's story. They were still stuck back at 10 years old, and there a part of her, a part of both of them, of all of them, that she suspected would _always_ be stuck at that age, in that place. "Luna? Are you happy?"

Luna's shoulders slumped and she gave Lexa a sad smile. "I'm trying to be," she said. "Some days are better than others." 

Lexa nodded. She had bad days, too, but from the haunted look in Luna's eyes, she thought maybe her worst days might still be better than some of Luna's best. A lump formed in her throat and she struggled to swallow it. "What happened to Sol?" she whispered.

Luna let out a shaky breath. "We got bounced from house to house. He was too much for the foster families to handle, and the older we got, the worse he got, and the more determined he was to get away. Two years ago he..." She took a breath, tried to steady herself. "He just lost it. I don't even remember what the fight was about now, but he went after our foster father, and I got in between, tried to pull him off, tried to reason with him, and he turned on me. And it all came flooding back. Everything we'd been taught just came back, and we just tore into each other." 

Clarke tensed, drawing away from them slightly, but Lexa leaned in. It didn't matter what Luna said, she didn't believe that she would ever actually harm her brother. Not intentionally. Not beyond what he could handle. They'd been taught ways to subdue a person, to incapacitate them that wouldn't kill them, after all. 

"Our foster parents called the cops. Sol tried to take off, but I wouldn't let him. I don't... I don't know what good I thought it would do, keeping him there. I don't know why..." Her chest heaved as she tried to draw breath without it coming out a sob. "When the police showed up, we were both bruised and bloody, still fighting on the front lawn while the entire neighborhood watched in horror, and Sol... he... he must have felt cornered, trapped, felt like the walls were closing in and there was no way out, and he... he tried to get one of their guns."

Lexa's blood ran cold, because it didn't take a genius to figure out how this story ended. Luna had already told them, and so had history. Even though Sol was white, coming at a police officer and trying to steal their weapon... it didn't end well. Ever.

"I thought I knew what a gunshot sounded like," Luna whispered. "We'd fired guns before. But we usually wore ear protection, and even when we didn't..." She shook her head. "It sounds different, somehow, when its aimed at a person, in a quiet little neighborhood where nothing ever happens. It sounds different when it's so close to you that for a second you wonder if you were the target before you realize that it's your brother who's falling, fallen, bleeding out on the front lawn that..." She closed her eyes. "That's what it was about. They asked Sol to mow the lawn, and he refused to do it, and not even an hour later, not even fifteen minutes, it's being watered with his blood.

"The ambulance came, but it was too late. It doesn't take that long for a kid to bleed out. Maybe they hit an artery or something. I don't know. I never found out. I never asked. I just..." Luna scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I didn't even try to save him. Not when it counted. All that time, I'd thought by staying with him I was protecting him. I thought I could save him from himself, but in the end... I was the one who killed him. I could have just let him go. That day, or... or any of the days leading up to it. If I'd been willing to let him go, maybe he would have ended up somewhere where they could have gotten him the help he needed, deprogrammed him, _something_ , but I was selfish, or, or cocky, thinking I could do it on my own, that because I was his sister, because I'd been through the same things he had, that I knew him better than anyone else did or could. But we weren't the same person, and I think maybe I never understood him at all. And it ended up killing him. _I_ ended up killing him." 

"It's not your fault," Clarke said. "You didn't fire the gun. You didn't kill him."

Luna looked at her, and if Lexa had been forced to describe her expression, the closest she would have been able to come would have been pity. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" she asked.

"No," Clarke said. "But—"

"Then you don't understand," Luna said. "If you have never had someone that you cared so much about, who you loved even when you didn't like them, that you were willing to sacrifice yourself to spare them—"

"You don't have to have a sibling to have that," Clarke said. "Maybe I didn't know the details of where Lexa came from when I was younger, maybe I couldn't understand fully what she was going through, but it didn't mean that I didn't know that she was going through something, and I would have done anything to—"

"Stop," Lexa said. "Please don't argue. Clarke is right, Luna. You didn't kill Sol. He is responsible for his own actions. No one else. That's what we were always taught, isn't it? That we must always be accountable for our own actions, and their consequences." 

"But his actions were the direct result of mine," Luna said. "If I hadn't tried to force him into a mold that he was never meant for—"

"If he had just mowed the lawn instead of picking a fight," Lexa countered. "Life is full of 'what if' and 'if only' but none of it matters, because you can't change the past. You can't undo what's been done. You can only move forward." 

"You sound like a counselor," Luna said. 

Lexa shrugged. "Sometimes they know what they're talking about," she said. "Not always, and sometimes they're full of shit, but sometimes they get things right." She moved so that she was directly in front of Luna, so that for Luna to look anywhere but at her, she would have had to be really obvious about it. "I'm sorry that Sol is dead," she said. "I'm sorry that you were there when it happened, that you had to witness it. I'm sorry that you've been carrying guilt over his death for so long. But it's _not_ your fault. Because if you follow that line of logic, maybe it's my fault. If I hadn't said anything, they wouldn't have ended up in jail, and Sol could have gone back to living the way he wanted to live. But you just told me never to regret that. So where does that leave us?"

Luna closed her eyes, then leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together. "I missed you," she said softly. "You are so stubborn, and so smart, and I always hated arguing with you because I hated losing." 

Lexa couldn't help smiling. "You were just as stubborn and just as smart," she said. "I can't help it that you were just wrong all the time." 

Luna snorted, and then laughed, shaking her head so that their foreheads rocked against each other and their noses brushed. "I'm glad you're okay," she said. "I'm glad you're happy."

"I'm glad you're here," Lexa said, because Luna obviously wasn't either of the other two. Maybe she would be some day, but not today. "I'm glad you found me."

Luna nodded, and then they were in each other's arms and Clarke backed off to give them space as they held on to each other, too tight again but neither of them was willing to loosen their grip so they just bore it as tears slid into each other's hair and collars, six years of grief spilling out in a steady stream that when it finally dried up left Lexa feeling drained. 

"Where do you live now?" she asked finally. Luna's head was still on her shoulder and their fingers were laced together, thumbs idly fighting for dominance like they had when they were children, a pointless power struggle that they'd giggled over beneath the covers. 

"A group home," Luna said, "for girls who haven't been successful in traditional fosters homes but who aren't such complete disasters that the state feels like they need to be in a place that's only one step up from juvenile detention." She sighed and let Lexa press her thumb down, surrendering. "I was in one of those for a while after Sol was killed. I guess they thought that if he was that volatile, I probably was, too. Especially since we'd been fighting before the police arrived. It was one of the social workers there who actually tried to help me instead of writing me off, and she was the one who got me the placement where I am now. It's not a bad place. There's only eight to ten of us there, and they try to make it as much like a real home as they can." Luna shrugged. "I should probably call them, let them know where I am."

Lexa lifted her head, twisting sharply to look at Luna. "They don't know you're here?"

Luna shook her head. "I said I was going to the library. I'll probably be in trouble when I get back, but hopefully not enough for them to decide I can't stay there anymore."

"Luna!" Lexa wanted shake her, to rattle her around until she knocked some sense into her. "You can't—how could you—why would you jeopardize that just to come see me?"

"Because I love you," Luna said softly. "You're all I have left of the past except nightmares."

"I love you too," Lexa said. "You were the only thing I loved before I came here. But if they decide to send you back to one of those kid-prison homes, we might not get to see each other again for a long time. I'm not worth—"

"You are," Luna said. "You are to me."


	7. Chapter 7

"Clarke!"

Her mother's voice, calling her from down in the yard and not sounding terribly happy. Clarke looked over at Lexa, whose face was buried in Luna's shoulder as they held each other and cried. She didn't want to leave them, not because she didn't trust Luna – now that they'd heard the story behind her declaration about her brother's death, and Luna reassuring Lexa she'd done the right thing by getting the leaders of their community locked up – but because she didn't want to not be there if Lexa needed her. 

But she'd already had one fight with her mother today, and she wasn't keen on having another. Not when it might result in a punishment worse than cleaning the garage. She might decide to actually ground Clarke for real for the first time in her life, which would mean not being able to see Lexa. 

It might have surprised other parents to know how few rules the Griffins had for Clarke, but then they also might have been surprised how easy it was to enforce good behavior. All it took was the threat of not allowing her to have Lexa over and she would do what she was told. It didn't stop her from arguing with them, and she could have as much of an attitude as the next teenager at times, but she knew her parents' breaking points, and she was careful to never push too hard when they hit them.

"I'll be right back," Clarke said, not sure if either of them heard. She stepped out of the treehouse and climbed down the ladder, going over to where her mother was standing on the back patio. 

"There you are," she said. "I was looking for you."

"Sorry," Clarke said. "Was there something you needed?"

"I just wanted to check in," she said. "See if we should be expecting Lexa for dinner tonight or if she'll still be with her friend."

"Oh," Clarke said. "Um." 

Abby's eyebrows shot up. "Um?"

"They're... both here?" Clarke said. "Up in the treehouse. We've been talking."

Clarke wasn't sure she'd ever seen someone's face turn into the frowning emoji where the mouth was a full-on upside-down U, but her mother's did now. "Excuse me?" she said. "I don't remember you asking if it was all right for you to have a guest over."

"It's Lexa," Clarke said. "I don't even remember the last time I asked if it was okay to have Lexa over." 

"It's not Lexa I'm concerned about," Abby said. "It's this friend of hers who she hasn't seen in her years, and who you decided you didn't need to introduce us to before having her over." 

"Mom, it's fine," Clarke said. "They just needed somewhere—"

"You aren't the one who gets to decide what is and is not fine," her mother snapped. "As you may have forgotten, you are the child here, and I am the parent, which means that I still have some say over what you do when you are under my roof." Her jaw clenched and lips pinched together. "And don't even think about bringing up some kind of technicality like the treehouse not being under my roof. I will not find it funny in the slightest." 

"You can meet her now," Clarke said. "Okay? I'm sorry. I should have asked, but they just... they needed a place to talk, and Miss Becca already met her and seemed okay with her, so..."

Abby sighed, still frowning. "Yes," she said. "I would like to meet her."

"Okay," Clarke said. "I'll go get her. Them."

"I'll be right here," Abby said. 

Clarke climbed back up to the treehouse, and she could hear the murmur of soft voices, so at least the tears had subsided. But what she heard made her breath catch and her heart skip a beat. A four-letter word that she'd only ever heard Lexa say to her, directed at someone else, and it didn't mean anything, except when she looked in they were pressed against each other, holding hands, their faces close enough that it would take hardly any movement at all for their lips to meet, and she didn't know Luna, and maybe they'd been wrong, thinking she'd wanted to find Lexa to hurt her. Maybe... maybe it was exactly the opposite. Maybe she'd been so determined to see her again because... because...

Lexa looked away, and when she locked eyes with Clarke she looked almost relieved. "Sorry," she said. "We got a little..."

"It's fine," Clarke said, not sure if it was. "Um. My mom wants us to come down. She wants to meet Luna."

Lexa looked at Luna, who nodded. They disentangled themselves and stood up. Clarke moved to go down the ladder first, but Luna caught her arm, holding her back as Lexa descended. "I'm not a threat to you," she said. "I... I think I know how that probably looked, and sounded, but it's not like that. I love her, but as a friend, a sister, not... not like she loves you. Not like you love her. It's just... intense right now. But please know that I would never do anything to get in the way of or damage what you have."

Relief flooded through Clarke and she pulled Luna into a hug without thinking. "Thank you," she said. "I didn't want to think... but..."

"Thinking and feeling are two different things," Luna said, squeezing her arms before letting her go. "I hope we can be friends."

Clarke smiled, nodded. "We already are."

They climbed down the ladder, where Lexa was waiting with Abby next to her. "Dr. Abby, this is Luna. Luna, this is Clarke's mom, Dr. Abby."

Abby smiled and offered a hand. "Just Abby is fine," she said. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Luna said, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. Something in her posture had changed, and Clarke couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was as if she'd taken every part of her that was still young and vulnerable and stuffed them into a box somewhere deep inside, and now she was a perfectly composed young adult. A picture of maturity and stability. "Thank you for allowing me to come over." 

Clarke looked at her mom as she opened her mouth, then closed it and smiled again. "Of course. Will you be staying for dinner? We were thinking of putting something on the grill. If you'd like to stay, you're welcome." She looked at Lexa. "We thought we would invite the rest of your family over as well."

Lexa grimaced, and Abby laughed. "They can run around the yard."

"They'll want to go in the treehouse," Lexa said. 

"And your mother will tell them it's off-limits, as always," Abby said. "One day the two of you are going to outgrow it, you know."

Clarke snorted. "Maybe when we're too old and feeble to climb up there," she said. "Like when we're you and dad's age." She grinned and dodged her mother's swat. "Or maybe we'll just rig up some kind of elevator. I bet we could. Something on a pulley system..."

"Raven could figure it out," Lexa said. "She's an engineering genius, apparently."

"Who's Raven?" Luna asked.

"Anya's roommate," Lexa said. "Possibly girlfriend, but I'm not sure."

"You could ask Anya," Clarke suggested. 

Lexa stuck out her tongue. "I'm not sure Anya is sure either," she said. 

"They've been living together for almost two years!" Clarke said. "How could she not know?!"

"Do _you_ want to ask her?" Lexa teased. 

"You know what?" Clarke said, fighting back a grin. "It's probably none of our business anyway."

"That's what I thought." Lexa slung her arm around Clarke, bumping their hips together, and Clarke reached up to tangle her fingers with Lexa's. For a second, the world shrunk down to just the two of them, and Clarke looked in Lexa's eyes, which were currently one of the brightest greens Clarke had ever seen them. She was happy. Maybe still a little worried deep down, but happy to have Luna back in her life. Clarke was happy that she was happy, and she'd meant what she said to Luna: they were friends too. Or at least she _wanted_ to mean it, and it wasn't that she didn't like her – she just didn't know her yet. She was sure once she got to know her better, they would be friends.

After all, neither of them wanted to hurt Lexa, so what other option was there?

"I don't know if I can stay," Luna said. "I'll have to ask."

"That's fine," Abby said. "There's always room for one more, and if we make enough food for you and you're not able to stay, I'm sure that Murphy will be happy to pick up the slack."

"Ugh," Lexa groaned. "As long as I don't have to watch."

"One of Lexa's foster brothers," Clarke said. "He's been there as long as she has. Longer, actually. He's kind of an a—jerk, but not as much as he used to be."

"It's like he might actually be maturing," Lexa said. "Weird."

Luna nodded. "I just... I need to make a call." She pulled a phone out of her pocket and then walked back to the treehouse and past it, all the way to the end of the yard where they couldn't hear what she was saying. 

Lexa watched her, the corners of her mouth tipped down and the corners of her eyes wrinkled with worry. "They don't know she's here," she said softly. "Her foster home. She told them she was going to the library and she got on a bus instead."

"Shit," Clarke whispered back. "Do you think she's going to get in trouble?"

Lexa hesitated, then nodded. "Probably."

"I'm sorry," Clarke said.

Lexa turned so that she could put her other arm around Clarke, and they held each other like they were middle school slow dancing for a second before leaning into the hug. Clarke rubbed Lexa's back and whispered to her that it would be okay, even if she had no way of being sure. "Maybe they'll understand," she said, trying to be reassuring. "She's telling them where she is now. That's got to count for something. It's only been a few hours."

Lexa nodded. "I don't want to lose her again," she said. 

"Why would you?" Clarke asked. "I guess if they grounded her, took away her phone, you might not be able to see her or talk to her for a while, but that's not losing her."

"They could send her to live somewhere else," Lexa said. "Somewhere where she wouldn't be able to sneak away, or so far away she wouldn't be able to get here, or..." She shook her head. "I don't even know how far she came. I didn't think to ask."

Clarke hadn't thought about it either. She'd just assumed that Luna couldn't be that far away, since they were able to arrange to meet up fairly easily. And the library story lent the theory some credibility, if Luna had thought she might be able to come and see Lexa and get back within library hours. Or maybe she'd known the lie would fall apart and she'd just been counting on being far enough way when it did that they couldn't stop her. 

Luna came over there, her phone clutched in her hand. "They want to talk to your foster mother," she said softly. "They're insisting on it, and I don't think I should push my luck too much further."

"Okay," Lexa said. "Let's go." She squeezed Clarke again. "Be right back, hopefully." 

Clarke held up crossed fingers and watched them head for the road. Her father had just pulled into the driveway and he waved to them as they went past. Lexa waved back, but didn't slow down, and for once in his life he took a hint and didn't pursue it. Instead, he called Clarke over. "Help me with these bags," he said.

"Are you planning to feed an army?" Clarke asked. "Did you buy an entire cow?"

"And a flock of chickens," he said. "Some of it we'll freeze for later in the summer, but it seems to me that we've got something to celebrate, so go big or go home, right?"

"She might not be staying," Clarke said. "I guess there was a mix-up with her, uh, guardians about when she was coming home. She's trying to sort it out now." It wasn't exactly the truth, but it was close enough. Her dad could probably see right through her, but he didn't call her out. He just led the way into the house with all the food and put her to work as his sous chef. 

"So," he asked, in an exaggerated whisper, "do we like her? Or should I _accidentally_ turn her burger into charcoal?"

Clarke laughed. "We like her," she said. "But thanks for looking out."

"You know I've got your back, kiddo," he said more seriously.

"I know," Clarke said. "And Lexa's too."

He nodded. "Always."


	8. Chapter 8

Miss Becca was on the phone with Luna's foster... not parents, but whatever they were, for a long time. Guardians? Keepers? She wasn't an animal in a zoo (although sometimes Lexa felt like _she_ was, when the younger ones started acting up). Anya was still there, and she sat down with them on the edge of the steps of the back deck to wait for Luna's fate to be handed down. 

"Sometimes," Luna said, "I just want to run. I want to run until I find someplace where no one knows me and I don't know anyone, and just start over." 

"There's no reset button on life," Anya said. "No matter how far you go, you can't escape yourself."

Luna's shoulders slumped a little. "I know," she said. "That's why I never do it."

"If you could go anywhere," Lexa asked, "where would you go?"

"To the sea," Luna said. "I would go live by the ocean somewhere."

"Have you ever even seen the ocean?" Lexa asked. 

Luna nodded. "Once. One of our foster mothers took me the beach. Just me. Bought me ice cream and French fries and one of those giant lollipops that no one ever finishes. Let me build sand castles and splash around in the water until it was almost dark. She helped me collect seashells until my pockets were bursting. She even let me pick the music on the drive back." She looked up at the sky and sighed. "When we got there, the social worker was waiting. Sol was already in her car, and my stuff had been packed in garbage bags and put in the trunk. I should have known."

"Why?" Lexa asked. "Why...?" But she didn't even really know what she was asking.

"Because she was never that nice," Luna said. "She actually hugged me that day. A bunch of times. I should have known something wasn't right, but I was having a good time and I guess I was still naïve enough to think that someone might want me. So when she said that we were having a girls' day, and our foster father and Sol were having a boys' day, I believed her." 

Anya reached around Lexa to put a hand on Luna's shoulder. "That's shitty," she said. 

Luna shrugged. "At least I got to see the ocean."

"But why would she do all that knowing she was getting rid of you?" Lexa asked. 

Luna looked at her, and her eyes were soft and sad. "I think she wanted to give me one good day, one good memory, before I went. I think—" She licked her lips, swallowed. Lexa took her hand and pressed it between both of her own. Luna's fingers were cold despite the warmth of the day. "I think that if it had just been me, I could have stayed there. I could have had a home, and a family. A nice life, like you have. Instead I had Sol."

Lexa looked at Anya quickly and shook her head before she could ask. Anya gave her a sharp nod, then went around to Luna's other side and put her arm around her. "You should have had that," she said. "You should have had a place where you could feel safe and—" 

"Please don't," Luna said softly. "Like you said, there's no reset button for the past. It is what it is."

Miss Becca came out then and handed Luna back her phone. She motioned for Lexa to follow her back inside. "I'll be right back," Lexa said, letting go of Luna reluctantly. 

When the door was shut between them, Miss Becca fixed her with a stern look. "I only have one question for you, and I expect that you'll tell me the truth: Did you know that Luna didn't have permission to come here?"

Luna shook her head. "No ma'am," she said. "I had no idea."

Miss Becca studied her a moment longer, then nodded. "All right," she said. "I told them that she's welcome to spend the night here if it's not convenient for them to come pick her up tonight. I'm sticking my neck out for you on this one, so I hope she is who you think she is."

Lexa wished Miss Becca had heard the conversation they'd just had. Would she doubt Luna then, knowing that she'd never had the chance at a life like the one that she'd given Lexa, and Anya, and Murphy, and all of the others before and alongside them, and all of the ones that Lexa as sure would come after? 

"Thank you," she said, and then did something she'd never done before: she hugged Miss Becca. She had hugged Lexa plenty of times, but Lexa had never initiated it. Not once. Until now. "For... not just for this. For everything." _For giving me a home, not just a house. For giving me a family, however crazy and chaotic. For letting me become part of the Griffins' family too, and not getting upset when I spend more time with them than I do here. For being a parent, and not just a Responsible Adult. For being a mother. For being **my** mother._ Lexa sniffed and blinked back tears and Miss Becca held her tight until her breathing steadied. 

"Go back to you friend," Miss Becca said. "Let her know she can stay the night here if she needs to."

Lexa nodded. "The Griffins invited us over for dinner," she said. "All of us. Mr. Jake is grilling."

Miss Becca smiled. "I guess that saves me needing to figure out what we're going to eat," she said, even though the entire week's menu was not only figured out, but posted on the refrigerator because some of the kids weren't great at handling surprises and needed to know ahead of time what to expect. Hopefully a change in plans wouldn't result in any meltdowns. 

"I'll let them know everyone's coming," Lexa said. She slid open the back door and stepped out onto the porch. 

Luna wasn't on the phone anymore. She sat with her phone held so loosely in her hand as it dangled between her knees that Lexa was afraid she might drop it. "Miss Becca said you can stay the night," she said. 

Luna nodded. "They said." She looked at Lexa out of the corner of her eye. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay," Lexa said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Luna shrugged. "Just because you agreed to meet me doesn't mean you want me... cluttering up your life. Maybe you already had plans." 

Anya snickered, and Lexa reached behind Luna to smack her. "Hey!" Anya said, clutching her arm as if Lexa's swat had actually hurt her. "Hands are not for hitting!"

"And if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," Lexa countered.

"I _didn't_ say anything!" Anya said. 

Lexa glowered. "You didn't have to."

"What? It's not _my_ fault that _everyone_ knows your weekend plans typically involve spending the night with your lady-love." Anya waggled her eyebrows. 

Lexa's felt herself flush all the way to the tips of her ears as Luna turned to look at her, eyes wide with surprise. "They let you sleep over with Clarke? Do they... not know?"

"I hate you," Lexa growled at Anya before making herself meet Luna's eyes. "They know," she said. "It's... it was a whole thing, back when they found out. They had a conversation about it, Miss Becca and Dr. Abby and Mr. Jake. But they found out when Clarke did her project, right after the whole TV thing, and we'd been apart for a month, and in the immediate aftermath I guess they decided that it would probably do us – me, mostly – more harm than good to keep us apart when we'd been spending at least one night together every weekend since we were ten." She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. "I don't know if that's true, but we weren't about to argue. And maybe they were right, because I don't know how well I would have handled being alone with my own thoughts, everything that it had dragged up, knowing that Clarke was _right there_. It was one thing when she was still at camp; I dealt with it because I had to. But once she was home? It would have been like they were punishing us for something when we hadn't done anything wrong." 

She bit her lip, glancing down and then looking up at Luna again. "And ultimately I think they realized that we're teenagers, and if we want to have sex we're going to and better that we do it somewhere safe. Also, it's not like we're going to knock each other up, so..." 

Luna laughed. "Valid," she said. "So it all worked out."

"I'm not going to pretend it's not awkward if we let ourselves think about it too much," Lexa said. "Like... we know that they know, and that's weird. Not that it really stops us. We've just learned to be really quiet."

"I'm not sure I needed to know that," Luna said. "So you're really okay with me staying? Even if it means you don't get to spend the night over there?"

"I'm really okay with it," Lexa said. "There will be plenty of other nights I can spend with Clarke." 

She didn't need to say that they didn't know how many more nights she would get to spend with Luna. Luna hadn't mentioned what her foster people had said about the consequences of her going AWOL; at the very least Lexa suspected she wouldn't be allowed to come visit again any time soon. But that was a problem for later.

"Are you any good in the kitchen?" Lexa asked. "Because I'm sure that Mr. Jake could use some help."

"I haven't killed anyone yet," Luna said. 

Lexa smiled. "Good enough."

* * *

The rest of the day went by too fast. First there was preparing food for the barbecue, and then there was nearly getting their limbs gnawed by hungry little boys (and Murphy) who didn't know how to wait their turn, and then helping clean up. Miss Becca took the younger kids home after they'd each had one too many s'mores over the grill, with instructions that they were to be home no later than nine. 

"But—" Lexa started to protest, but the look on Miss Becca's face shut her down. "Yes ma'am."

Anya went home and the Griffins went inside, leaving Lexa, Clarke, and Luna with the glowing embers of the grill and the last of the marshmallows. "Who was it who wanted to know if there would be marshmallows in the apocalypse?" Lexa asked. 

"Remi," Luna said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "And Taryn told him duh, obviously, but—"

"—there wouldn't be any chocolate," they finished together. 

"He cried," Luna said. "Do you remember?"

"Yes," Lexa said. "He said if there was no chocolate in the apocalypse then he didn't want any part of it."

"But otherwise he was okay with it?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa leaned into her. "I don't know," she said. "He was the youngest of us. I'm not sure he really understood when they were talking about, with the apocalypse and the fall of the government and the collapse of everything."

"I don't think any of us did," Luna said. "Not really. We were just kids."

"Until we weren't," Lexa said. 

"Until we weren't," Luna echoed. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa from behind, propping her chin on her shoulder. Her _left_ shoulder. Lexa had lost track of the number of times that Clarke had touched her scars, with gentle fingers and gentler lips. She'd done it so many times that Lexa didn't even flinch anymore. 

"Chey," she said softly. "And Dakota."

"Taryn," Luna added. "Remi."

"Levi, Isla..."

"And Sol," Luna finished. 

The names of her scars. She felt Clarke's lips on the side of her neck and she tipped her head to rest against Clarke's. 

"Thank you," Clarke said. "You didn't—"

"Yes," Lexa said. "I did."

* * *

Luna gave them a few minutes to say goodnight, and Lexa couldn't even find the words to tell Clarke how much it meant to her that she'd stood by her through this, but given her space, too. She'd seen how important it was and navigated it with more grace and dexterity than seemed reasonable to ask of a 15-year-old, but Clarke had always been extraordinary, hadn't she? She'd always known what to do and say to put Lexa at ease, to smooth the way for her as much as it could be smoothed. She held her tight, breathing in the sunshine scent of her, a combination of her shampoo and soap and the sweat tang of her skin. "I love you," she finally whispered against her lips. "Always and always and always."

"I love you too," Clarke said. "I'll see you in the morning?"

Lexa nodded. "To say goodbye."

Clarke nodded, kissed her one last time, and let go. 

Lexa and Luna walked back across the street, closing the door behind them just as the alarm on Lexa's phone that she'd set for nine o'clock went off. She quickly silenced it and poked her head into the living room, where Miss Becca was nodding off in front of the TV, which had the volume turned so low there was no way she could hear what was going on anyway. "We're back," Lexa said. 

"Thank you," Miss Becca said. "Does she need anything?"

"I know where everything is," Lexa said. 

"Of course." Miss Becca smiled up at her. "If there's anything either of you need, just let me know."

"I will," Lexa said. "Thanks. Again. For letting her stay."

"You're welcome," Miss Becca said. "Tell her good night for me."

"I will." Lexa turned to go, then stopped, her heart pounding like she'd just run a race. She stepped back into the doorway. "Good night, Mom," she said, then bolted up the stairs so fast she didn't hear whether Miss Becca said good night back.

By the time she had a toothbrush and towels and everything else Luna might need for an overnight stay gathered, she didn't feel quite so much like she was about to have a heart attack. If Luna saw anything on her face that seemed out of the ordinary, she was polite enough not comment. She just got ready for bed, borrowing one of Lexa's old t-shirts and a pair of shorts since she hadn't brought pajamas. 

Even though she was tired, Lexa couldn't sleep. "It's weird sharing a room again," she said. "It's been a while since Anya left."

"You share a room with Clarke," Luna said, and Lexa could hear the teasing smirk in her voice.

"That's different," Lexa said. "That's at her house, not here." She tried to think of a way to explain it. "It's like when you're used to sitting at a certain place at the table, or in a certain seat in a class, and then you have to sit somewhere else. It just feels wrong." She paused, realizing how that might sound. "Not that having you here feels wrong. Just—"

"I get it," Luna said. "You're used to things one way, and then they change." Lexa heard her shifting around, and from the sound of voice, she had rolled to face Lexa. "I guess I'm probably more used to that than you are."

Lexa pressed her lips together. "I wish—"

"Don't," Luna said. "I'm glad you have all this. I'm glad I can put all the possible horrors I imagined I might find to rest. I'm glad that now I can imagine you living happily ever after."

"You don't have to imagine it," Lexa said. "You'll be there for it. Maybe not all the time, but..."

"We'll see," Luna said. "But if we don't—"

"We _will_ ," Lexa insisted. She couldn't accept anything else. "Did they say—"

"No," Luna said. "They said we'll talk, and after we talk 'we'll consider our options'. I don't know if I'm included in that second 'we'."

"Maybe you could come ba—"

" _Don't,_ " Luna said, cutting her off as effectively as she would have if she'd clamped her hand over Lexa's mouth. "Please. Don't. Don't make promises you can't keep." 

She was right, of course. Lexa could think, wish, hope... whatever you wanted to call it, the truth was it was impossible, or at least so unlikely it didn't do any good to let the seed she'd planted with the ill-considered words take root. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I—"

"Where is it?" Luna asked. 

"Where's what?" Lexa asked, knowing a diversion when she saw it, but she wasn't about to force Luna to have a conversation she didn't want to have. 

"The moonstone," Luna said. 

"Oh." Lexa got out of bed and went to the closet, retrieving it from the pocket of her backpack. She sat down on the edge of Luna's bed and held it out to her. "It's not really—"

"I know," Luna said. "But you thought it was." 

"Moonstone is a lot more beautiful," Lexa said. 

Luna shook her head. "Not to me," she said. She lifted the edge of the blanket that covered her, and Lexa slid under even though the bed really wasn't big enough for both of them. The last time she'd shared a bed this small with anyone it had been this bed, on Anya's last night at home, when they'd both failed to convince themselves and each other that everything was totally fine. 

Luna put the stone back in Lexa's hand, then wrapped her own around it. It had edges that dug into their palms, but neither of them complained. They just laid facing each other, studying each other in the dim light that leaked in from outside. Neither of them said anything, but it didn't feel like they needed to. They'd learned to communicate plenty without saying a word back when their lives, or at least their skins, depended on it. 

Eventually it became too difficult to keep her eyes open, and Lexa let them drift shut. She felt Luna shift, removing the rock from between their hands but not letting go. 

Not this time.


	9. Chapter 9

Lexa texted Clarke the next morning, inviting her to come over to say goodbye to Luna. Part of her thought that Lexa might be making the offer out of courtesy, and that she didn't really want Clarke to come, because why would she give up any of the last few minutes she had with her friend? But the rest of her knew that Lexa wouldn't have extended the invitation if she didn't mean it, and that she might want Clarke there for moral support, and also it was just polite. 

She went over after breakfast. There was a car she didn't recognize in the driveway, and Miss Becca was talking to a heavyset woman who was leaned up against it. Clarke assumed that she must be from Luna's foster home, and that she was here to take her back. The conversation seemed amicable enough, which Clarke hoped was a good sign.

Luna curled her fingers in a wave when she saw Clarke, and Clarke waved back, feeling suddenly awkward. 

"I almost forgot," Lexa said to Luna. "I have something for you. Wait here." She turned and ran inside, leaving them standing there alone together. 

"I'm glad you came," Clarke said finally. "I'm glad you found us. Her."

"You can say us," Luna said. "I found you first, after all. Thank you for letting me find her, too. And thank you for not making it too easy." She smiled. "It makes me feel better, knowing she has someone who has her back like that."

"Not just someone," Clarke said. "A lot of someones."

Luna nodded. "It's good," she said. "She was always one of the strongest – maybe _the_ strongest of us – but also the softest. If that makes any sense. She puts up a good front, but inside she feels things, sometimes more than is good for her."

"That hasn't changed, " Clarke said. 

"I didn't figure it had," Luna said. "I'm happy for you. Both of you."

"Thanks," Clarke said. She scuffed the toe of her sandal in the grass at the edge of the driveway. She was spared having to think of something else to say (because 'I'm happy for you, too' wasn't it, given the fact that Luna's situation seemed... not bad, but far from ideal) by Lexa bursting back out the door. 

"This is for you," she said, handing her a small box. 

Luna took it but didn't open it. She just stared down at it with her forehead furrowed. "I didn't get you anything," she said. 

"I didn't expect you too," Lexa said. "Anyway... it's kind of for both of us. Just open it."

So Luna pulled the lid off and brushed aside the tissue paper to reveal a necklace. No, two necklaces, of a milky white stone that seemed almost to glow. They fit together to form a circle, like...

"The moon," Luna said softly. "It's moonstone."

" _Real_ moonstone," Lexa said. "One part is for you. The other..."

"Where did you find these?" Luna asked. 

"I didn't," Lexa said. "I had them made. There was a girl from Clarke's camp last summer who made jewelry, and I found her card and asked her if she could make something, told her what I wanted, and..." She shrugged. "Do you want the crescent or the... whatever the rest of the moon that isn't the crescent would be."

"Gibbous," Luna said. "When the moon is almost full but not quite, so that there's a crescent of it missing, it's called a gibbous moon."

"That doesn't answer the question," Lexa said, smiling crookedly. "I asked which necklace you wanted, not for an astronomy lesson." 

Luna rolled her eyes. "The crescent," she said. Clarke didn't know if there was any significance to the decision, and she didn't think it was her place to ask. She just watched as Lexa picked up the necklace and fastening it around Luna's neck, and then took the other half and put it around her own. 

"Luna," the woman standing by the car called. "We need to get going."

"Okay," Luna said. "I guess that's my cue."

For a second Clarke thought she was just going to walk away, and she wasn't sure what she would have done if she'd tried. Thankfully, after a second of awkward rocking back and forth on their feet, they hugged each other, and then couldn't seem to let go. Maybe they were remembering the last time someone in authority had come to get them, and how they'd refused to let go then, and how in the end they'd had no choice because they were just kids and no matter how strong they were, the powers that be were stronger. Clarke could hear them whispering but couldn't hear what they said, mostly because she was actively trying not to. When they finally let go, Luna wrapped her arms around Clarke, just for a moment. "Keep being good to her," she said. "Please."

"I will," Clarke told her. 

And then she got in the car and a few seconds later, she was gone. Clarke took Lexa's hand and squeezed. When Lexa looked at her, she tipped her head toward her house, and Lexa nodded. She didn't even ask if it was all right to go, they just went, retreating to their arboreal sanctuary. Lexa curled into Clarke, knotting their fingers together in her lap. 

"Do you think you'll see her again?" Clarke asked. 

"I know I'll see her again," Lexa said. "Maybe not soon, but I _will_ see her again. If we found our way back to each other after everything that happened, there's no way that this is the end." 

Clarke hoped she was right. More than anything, she hoped she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so short... but you got a full week of stories recently, so I don't feel _that_ bad. :-P


End file.
